DREAM MUSIC 



BY 

FKEDERIC ROWLAND MAEVIN. 



3 



3 ^ 






NEW YORK: 

Carleton, Publisher, Madison Square, 



MDCCCLXX. 



31 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 

GEO. W. CARLETON, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, ta Washington, 



Stereotyped at 

The Women's Printing Hovsk, 

Eighth Street and Avenue A, 

New York. 



TO 



MY FRIEND 



THESE POEMS ARE DEDICATED. 



CONTENTS 



Page 

TO MY MOTHER 9 

IN MEMORIAM 11 

QUEEN SLEEP 13 

PASSING OYER JORDAN IG 

WINTER IN THE SOUL 18 

STARLIGHT IN THE SOUL 20 

MUST I DIE YOUNG 21 

THE SUMMER-LAND 23 

LILIES FOR ROSALIE . 25 

LELANGE 26 

O' THE WEARY MORROW 28 

FARE-THEE-WELL 30 

LOVE NEVER DIES 32 

THE STATUE 34 

THE PHANTOM BRIDE 36 

ZENA 39 

AN INVITATION 41 

A THOUGHT I NEVER HAD BEFORE . . . .43 

HE COMES NOT 45 

HELENA .47 

THE SEA OF DEATH 49 

THERE THE WEARY BE AT REST 51 

A SUPERSTITION 52 



VI CONTENTS. 

Pa^e 

THE BEST FRIEND 54 

THE FLOWER OF SLEEP 56 

DREAMS 57 

TO IklARIE 00 

THE COLLOQUY 62 

DEFIANCE . .65 

DESPAIR 66 

THE DESPAIRING MYTHOLOGIST 68 

MUTABILE SEMPER 70 

THE FIRST WOMAN 72 

THE WORLD MY IDOL 74 

CLING NOT TO EARTH 76 

IN HEAVEN IS REST 77 

HYMN 78 

AMBITION'S PRAYER 80 

SWEET SLEEP 82 

TO H. E 84 

HAPPY DREAMS 86 

TO KATE 87 

FALSE LAURENE 88 

THE TRIUMPH OF PRIDE 90 

THE sceptic's PREDICTION 92 

MY COFFIN 94 

TO A HYPOCRITE 95 

AD MINISTRUM 98 

ALEXIS AND AZEZA 99 

A FRAGMENT 104 

MY HEART IS LOCKED 106 



DREAM MUSIC. 



DREAM MUSIC, 




5D0 Ps Polljxr. 

|HEY tell me Imman love was made 
Awhile to bloom^ and then to fade 
Before the antnmn chill : 
They tell me human love is sold — 
A thing of traffic, bought with gold, 
And subject to the will. 

No falsehood this ; and yet I own, 
There is a love, one love alone, 

With Instre ever bright. 
It runs through all my changing years. 
Forsakes me not in smiles and tears. 

And fills my soul with light. 



10 TO MY MOTHER. 

That love, beyond all other love, 
Unselfish, pure as heaven above, 

Is thine, dear naother, thine. 
AYliat, then, if clouds around me break ! 
The fount of joy they cannot take 

From out this heart of mine. 

Earth's merry throng may pass me by ; 
Its honors from my grasp may fly. 

As leaves upon the blast : 
I care not, if thou lov'st me still ; 
Tliy love alone my heart can fill, 

And hold it to the last. 

I'll love thee till my latest breatli ; 

I'll love thee when I'm clasped in deatli ; 

I'll love thee still on high. 
While on my tide of life shall flow. 
My love for thee no end shall know ; 



'Twill never, never die. 




IN ME MORI AM. 11 

Jit gttmnrmm. 

s. L. A. 

OBIIT MDCCCLXVII. 

LEEP sweetly now, and take tliy rest ; 
Thy clay of life is o'er ; 
The years, with joy and pain, will come 
Alas ! to thee no more. 

Oh ! nevermore my voice of love 

Shall fall npon thine ear : 
Thy sunny smile, thy winning grace, 

Ko more my heart shall cheer. 

Sleep on — I would not end thy rest, 

Though thou wert all to me : 
Enough, that lie who call'd thee hence 

Hath set thy spirit free. 

Yes, free, I know ; for oh ! I feel 
Thy presence like a spell, 



12 IN MEMORIAM. 

And, mute with glad surprise, I hear 
Thy spirit-voice, ''Tis well. 

And sometimes through the twilight dim 

Thy spirit-form I see ; 
And, oh ! thine angel eyes do oft 

On me beam tenderly. 

Sleep on — the years shall come and go ; 

The flowers shall fade and bloom ; 
And winter winds, unheeded, sweep 

Above thy lonely tomb : 

And I, who grieve with stricken heart. 
Erelong shall know thy rest ; 

Rejoin thee in the upper w^orld — 
The home where all are blest. 



QUEEN SLEEP. 13 



^ SLEEP, fair daughter of Music ! 
^1 A queen, and the mother of dreams ; 
Death is your daughter, whose singing 

Is like to the music of streams ; 
That leap from hill to the valley. 

With shout, and with laughter and song, 
Whose pulses are lithe as a nereid's, 

As rapid as Jove's, and as strong. 

When Time was your foe, I beheld you, 

Compassionate, proud and supreme ; 
I claimed the sweet hand of your daughter— 

A young and a delicate dream. 
With heart that was tender, maternal, 

You gave your sweet daughter so true; 
I kneeled at your altar in silence. 

And swore an allegiance to you. 



14 QUEEN SLEEP. 

Ill fever, in pain, and in famine, 

I've worshipped jou ever the same — 
I kneel and I pray at yonr altar — 

Confess all my folly and shame, 
Till the musical voice of your daughter 

Doth call through the nave of the night, 
And the lights go ont by the altar, 

And out go the priests of the night. 

You were naked, and noble, and fearless, 

O queen of an endless domain ! 
Your lovers were passionate, many. 

But all their caresses were vain. 
Your limbs would not yield to their kisses, 

Your arms were too strong for them still ; 
Their love had outwitted their reason. 

And wholly converted their will. 

Time was, when your temple was crowded ; 

Men worshipped your delicate form ; 
You bade them do penance that served you. 



QUEEN SLEEP. 15 

And walk all iinclotlied in the stoi^m. 
Your temple they left, and your altar, 

But walked not unclothed in the storm — 
They girt their soft robes up around them — 

They girt their soft robes, and were warm. 

But you are my mother, and ever 

I kneel where your light torches gleam. 
And the lily-white arms of your daughter 

Enfold me, a delicate dream. 
I'll never forsake or betray you — 

I'll praise you now and liereafter 
With tender white lilies and roses, 

Yv^ith music, with song, and with laughter. 





16 PASSING OVER JORDAN. 

passing ©fa^r Jbrbrnt. 

AUK ! I hear the harps eternal, 
Hinging on the further sliore, 
As I near those swollen waters, 
With their deep and solemn roar. 

And my soul, though stained with sorrow. 

Fading as the light of day. 
Passes swiftly o'er those waters. 

To the city far away. 

Souls have crossed before me, saintly, 
To that land of perfect rest, 

And I hear them sino-ino; faintly. 
In the mansion of the blest. 

Just beyond the river flash eth 

Jebu-Salem of my God, 
Where tlie w^iite v^ave, rising, splasheth 

On the shore by angels trod. 



PASSING OVER JORDAN. 17 

Stop! I see the boatman Hearing ; 

See, the snowy sail is set, 
And the oars are floating idly, 

And the sail is drifting wet. 

Call my father ! call my mother ! 

Tell them that the boatman's here ; 
And another, oh ! another, 

Unto whom my soul is dear. 

Call them quick, for I am }3assing 
Through the valley of the grave ; 

I am passing with the boatman 
O'er the deep and sullen wave. 





18 WINTER IN THE SOUL. 



HEEE'S winter in my soul to-night, 
And the frosts, like death, are at work ; 
The icicles flash in the pale moon-light, 

Like the glist'ning point of a dirk ; 
And the wind sweeps o'er the wreck of my life, 

Y/ith its poisoning shafts of pain ; 
And I feel, I feel, in the deep'ning strife, 
What I never would feel again. 

There's winter in my soul to-night, 

And all is cold as the grave ; 
And the rivers of joy are frozen tight. 

And there's not a siuirle wave. 
To wash the ice from the door of my heart. 

Or give me the courage to pray : — 
Far down in my breast deep agony dwells, 

To frighten devotion away. 



WINTER IN THE SOUL. 19 

From out my heart there comes a wail, 

A wail like the cry of the wind ; 
And the storm-cloud throws its rattlino; hail. 

In fury bewild'ring and blind : 
The sky above me is sable to-night ; 

The stars have gone out in thick gloom ; 
And the only light is the iiiania light, 

Illuming the verge of the tomb. 

And up before me, deep and dim. 

The shadows of madness arise ; 
They smile at me in their mockery grim, 

And taunt with the glare of their eyes — 
They come ! they come ! and the heat of theii 
breath 

Dissolveth the frost on my lips, 
While off their fingers, betokening death, 

The melting agony drips. 




20 STARLIGHT IN THE SOUL. 



Starligljt in tb SrruL 

IS starlight in my soul once more- 
All storms have left mj sky ; 
And no^Y the stars of hope and love 

Shine brightly from on high. 
They're gone, the clouds of dark despair, 

That hung in sombre bars, 
And now my silent soul receives 
The pale light of the stars. 

E'o more athwart my spirit's sky 

Fly swift the bolts of death ; 
No more I stand in mute despair, 

And hold my very breatli ; 
For now the clouds are roll'd away, 

The winds are lull'd to rest, 
And silence reigns, and starlight falls . 

Within my peaceful breast. 




MUST I DIE YO UNG ? 21 

GOD ! my God ! must I die yomig? 



My three-score years and ten unspent?— 
My journey here but just begun ? 

Wherefore, O God ! was this blow sent ? 
Must I die young ? 

Must my bright vision disappear — 

Vision of golden years to be ? 
These years, from life's great chain unlinked, 

And joined unto eternity? 
Must I die young ? 

My ripening thoughts — must tliey decay, 
Not yet matured in life's high noon ? 

And this frail pencil, prized so well. 
Drop from my ready hand so soon ? 
Must I die young ? 



99, 



MUS T I DIE YO UNG ? 



Must she whom I have dearly loved 
Through all my changeful years, 

Henceforth, in widowhood of soul, 
Walk the dark vale of tears ? 
Must I die young ? 

Must all I hold of earth be lost ? — 

To me no more revealed ? 
And from these eyes the lire burn out. 

These lips be ever sealed ? 
Must I die young ? 

I murmur not ; I meekly bow, 

God, to Thy decree. 
Deprived of earthly gifts, I know 

1 shall be joined to Tliee, 

Though I die young. 




THE SUMMER-LAND. 2d 



Summ^r-|.'ani:r. 



LAKD of glory ! Summer land ! 
Fair land to wliich I go, 
I see in dreams thy silver streams ; 
Tlirongli valleys green tliey flow. 
I see in dreams thy silver streams, 

Where spirit boatmen row, 
And by whose banks in shining ranks. 
The happy angels go. 

Anear and yet afar thou art 

From me, fair land of light — 
Bright land of peace where sorrows cease 

And death can never blight. 
Bright land of peace ! where sorrows cease ; 

Where I shall reach a height — 
A height so great the winds of fate 

My joy can never blight. 



24: THE SUMMER-LAND. 

To thee in dreams, fair land, I go ; 

In dreams at noon of night, 
When all is still o'er vale and hill, 

Enrobed in silv'ry light. 
When all is still o'er vale and hill 

My thonghts in ^'ision flj. 
Yes, fly above to thee where love 

And joy can never die. 




LILIES FOR ROSALIE. 25 



plus for glcsalb. 



AISE your heads, ye virgin lilies — 
Lilies white, so chaste and free ! 
Bend no more with artless grace, 
Mirrored in the water's face — 
Yon shall live with Eosalie. 

Lift your stems of shining silver ; 

Open wide your leaves to me ; 
You shall live, and never fade, 
When you're with the fairest maid — • 

On the breast of Eosalie. 

Lilies, hear you what I'm saying \ 

Fadeless glories you shall be ; 
Careful, then, lest wavelets drift you; 
Stooping low, I gently lift you — 

You shall live with Eosalie. 



26 



LELANGE. 



^Tclaiuic. 




()\'M, will voii no\(M* icivc \\w rt^st '^ 
riuMH^ is iu» pcnco witliin \\\\ l>rt>Msl ; 
Miiu^ i>\i>s llu'v I'losc iu>r (lav nor iii;;-lit, 
\ o\\ UhhI tluMu with soiiu' lu'w dolii^-lit 
\\\\A\ hour. 



T t^Mv loan h:u'k thiU 1 mav l)rt>a(lu^ ; 
Ihit vou, voui* anus moi-i' tii;-htlv w iwitlio 
Around \\\\ uiH'lv, whiU' 1 Nour t'lu^ok, 
l'\>r kissini;- of, do i;row more wiMik 
.lOai'li houi". 



Vwi" runs throui;-h t^\tM'V swi^lliui;- vcmu, 
And nanudoss bliss hcronies a }>ain 
Each hour. 



LELANGE. 



27 



But, Btlll love on. If I must die, 
My lifeless fonn, wlicre should it lie, 
If not beside my lo\ e, Lelange ? 
Lelange. 





O, THE WEARY MORROtVI 



0, Cljt Mmxu ItorroiM ! 

THE weary, weary morrow ! 
Birthday of my blinding sorrow 
O, the longing, weary aching 
Of a heart that's nio^h to breakinsr — 

Saying, " lie will come no more ! " 

O, the weary, weary morrow — 
Day of darkness, death and sorrow ! 
Cheerless now am I, and lonely, 
Now, while I am thinking only — 

Thinking he will come no more. 

All my prayers are vain and worthless ; 
All my bitter tears are nseless ; 
Each long hour I spend in sorrow 
Will increase my grief to-morrow — 

Grief that he will come no more. 



O, THE WEARY MORROW. 29 

But, though vain my tears and praying, 
Constantly my heart is saying 
Words which seem life's cord to sever : 
" Come to me he will, no, never ! 

Kever come, no, never more ! " 




30 FARE- THEE- WELL, 



imt-i\u-Mt\\. 




AEE -THEE-WELL ! I loved tliee 
fondly : 

Fare-thee-well ! I love thee still ; 
For the love I bear thee, Dora, 
Triumphs o'er my feeble will. 

Once to love thee — oh, hov/ blessed ! 

Now to love thee must be sin : 
Still my worshipped idol art thou — 

Thou enshrined my soul within. 

Fare-thee-well ! bright joys attend thee. 
Unalloyed with care and strife ; 

Calm and peaceful be thy future ; 
Blessings crown thee all thy life ! 



FARE- THEE- WELL. 31 

Yet when evening shades do gather 
Round thy home at close of day, 

To the spot where we were plighted 
Often let thy vision stray. 

Oh, forget not him who loved thee — 
Loved thee as none other could — 

Loves thee still, so deeply, madly — 
Loves thee as no mortal should ! 

Now I part wdth thee, my Dora ; 

Now from thee my hope I sever : 
Fare-thee-well — the word is spoken — 

Fare-thee-well, alas, forever ! 




LOVE NEVER DIES. 



Ifofo Ui^fa^r gks. 

HE fields were red with clover, 

And the brooks were red with sun 



Together they blush'd in beauty, 

But they couldn't blush like One. 
Birds through the woods went winging, 
While all the leaves were rinorinsr 
AYith the song which they were singing, 

But they couldn't sing like One. 
And the winds, they gently sigh'd 

As they fiew to the rising sun, 
But their sigh, though soft and sweet, 

Was not like the sigh of One. 
Said 1, " If my love be thwarted, 

I would that my love were dead." 
She lifted her eyes in sorrow — 

In sorrow meekly said, 
" Love never dies ; it is not mortal : 
It passes through the golden portal — 

The portal of peace and joy." 



LOVE NEVER DIES. 33 

The swift-winged messenger came — 

My angel was carried from sight — 
He bore her to beautiful fields, 

Where flowers are fadeless and bright. 
I wept ; and I heard, as I murmur'd, 

" I would that my love were dead." 
^ voice — 'twas the voice of my angel — 

Eepeating the words she had said, 
" Love never dies ; it is not mortal : 
It passes through the golden portal — 

The portal of peace and joy." 

And now though she never sees me 
From that beautiful field of light, 

I know that I never murmur 
As I travel the field of night. 

My love is not dead ; my love is not mortal : 

I know it has passed through the golden 
portal — 
The portal of peace and joy. 




34 THE STATUE. 

OR Art with l)nsy hand I wrought : 
I held the chisel day l)j day, 
Until the stone I saw assume 

The form tliat I had sliaped in clay. 

Alone I wrought, nor would I see 

The friends that I liad known hefore ; 

I could not love them less, hut O 
I loved the marhle statue more ! 

The stone I shaped with cunning skill, 
And formed the limbs with tender grace 

My passion strange and deep I wrought 
In love upon the upturned face. 

But, while I wrought, a silver cloud 
Came softly from the bending sky, — 

A spirit sent from God, to dwell 
And beam within the tender eye. 



THE STATUE. 



35 



So he who leaves the busy world, 
In silence shapes a noble thought, 

From God a life shall see descend 
Upon the statue he hath wrought. 




36 THE PHANTOM BRIDE, 



t IPI^Htntnm gritr^. 



^^1 EE the glorious mooiiliglit falling 
^^A Down upon the open bay, 
And the ripples shoreward dancing, 

Break aloft in silver sprav. 
Far alono: tlie breast of waters 

See the shadows lying deep, 
Wliere the waves in pensive music 

Gently rock themselves to sleep. 

Now, O wa%es, my shallop graceful 

Glides upon your silver breast, 
Shoots beneath the rocks and shadows. 

Where no moonbeams ever rest ; 
Dowm beneath the arch of granite. 

To the tower that hangs above. 
While the stars bright watch are keeping 

O'er the palace of my love. 



THE PHANTOM BRIDE. 37 

Stars, look out and shine forever ! 

How I love to gaze on you, 
Bright-eyed ministers of glory. 

Guardians of the brave and true. 
Oft beneath these walls I've floated, 

Gazing toward the midnight sky, 
Till the east grew red Vvdth morning, 

And your starlights died on high. 

Oft my lute has wakened music 

Out upon the evening tide, 
Where the shades of shore's creation 

Out upon the waters glide. 
Oft I've rocked beneath the castle 

Where my idol Laura dwelt, — 
In the moonlight calm and holy, 

'Xeath the castle window knelt. 

Oft I've seen the stars of evening 

Kiss the waters of the bay. 
While they strove to drown the shadows 

In a shower of silver spray. 



38 THE PHANTOM BRIDE. 

Such a night ! 0_, night remembered ! 

'Twas the season of mj pride, 
When my wooing won my Laura, — 

Won a phantom for a bride. 

Down the years I still am. gliding, 

But that phantom leaves me not ; 
N'or the bay, the moonlight, starlight, 

Nor the castle is forgot. 
Was e'er bride of earth more constant % 

Are earth's daughters half so true % 
Are their cheeks e'en half so rosy ? 

Are their eyes, say, half so blue % 

Ah, bright eve, all eves surpassing — 

Centre of my earlier dreams ! 
O, deep bay, rise, ebb forever, 

T7here the pale moon nightly gleams ! 
Though the years grow dark and stormy, 

And the future black with woe, 
I will gaze on years now sleeping ; 

They their light around me throw. 



ZENA. 39 




RTIST, paint my angel Zena ; 
Other models nothing seem ; 
But know this, if thou canst paint her 

Thou canst paint my spirit's dream. 
Paint a brow of snowy whiteness. 
Paint an eye of heavenly brightness, 

Cheeks of velvet flushed with crimson ; 
Now begin, begin, begin ! 

Bring your brush, and bring your canvas. 
Bring your paint, and bring your bowl. 

Try if you can paint my Zena, 
Idol of my raptured soul. 

Paint two lips divinely fair. 

Paint the witching smile they wear ; 
Locks of living darkness, paint them. 

Now begin, begin, begin ! 



40 ZENA, 

Ah ! 1 see thou canst not paint her 
She is far beyond thine art ; 

E'er must she remain uncopied 
On the canvas of my heart. 

You may paint all other creatures, 

But you cannot Zena's features — 
Angel Zena, never, never ! 




AN INVITATION, 4:1 



^Svj COME up again to my cottage, Bel ; 
ySM O ! come up this Spring : 

Come sit in the porch where you used to sit — 
A poem I'll read you while you knit, 

And the robins sing, 
O! come, and we'll walk where tlie willows 

grow ; 
We'll walk and we'll talk of the years ago ; 
Yfe'll talk of the earlier days of life. 
Youth's vision of sorrow, its joy and strife. 
And friends we shall Gce no more. 

! come, for I'm weary of study and books ; 

1 long to go down by the murmuring brooks, 

And think of the years now o'er. 
Only yester-eveniug I read some rhymes, 
T/hich were written, I know, in olden times, 
And I want to read them aloud to you ; — 



42 AN INVITATION. 

So come up, and I'll read the volume through. 
There are joyous stories, and stories sad, 
Of the rich and poor, of tlie good and bad ; 

Tales of the land, tales of the sea. 

Tales of the bond, tales of the free. 
Come, and I'll read them all to you — 

O ! come up this Spring, 

While the robins sino; : 
Then will I make my promise true — 
Come, and I'll read them all to you. 

Say, will you come ? 




A THOUGHT I NEVER HAD BEFORE. 43 

% ^Ij^itgljt I Stbcr fair i^an. 




SADNESS gathered in my soul, 
A cloud of discontent — 
A sadness that my joys were dead, 
My happy hours were spent. 

And, while thus mourning pleasures gone, 

The joys that were no more. 
There came unto my soul a thought 

I never had before. 

You need not ask me what it was — 

That thought I'll never tell ; 
But this I'll say : 'twas all about 

My love, my Isabel. 

It came, and nestle J like a dove 

Within my darken'd breast. 
And, Vv'ith its sweetest melody, 

Laid all my grief to rest. 



44 A THOUGHT I NEVER HAD BEFORE. 

Sweet Hope tlien shed enliv'iiing beams, 

To cheer me in my way ; 
She bade me, too, this lesson learn, — 

The brave shall wdn the day. 

I saw" her light ; I heard her voice ; 

I learned her lesson well ; 
And thus, made happy by a thought, 
By Hope inspired, inspired and taught, 
I won the hand I long had sought — 

The hand of Isabel. 





HE COMES NOT. 45 



ie Comts lot. 

EASE, ye winds, your wild contending! 

I am mad with linman fate. 
For my Love comes not to meet me, 

And the hours are growling late. 
Lighter, lighter drop the shadow^s 

On the headland far away, 
And the east is brighter growing — 
Can it be the coming day ? 

List ! I hear him ! 'tis his footfall 

Down among the yellow reeds ! 
Still, O heart ! 'tis but the wild wind. 

Ah, thy waiting nothing speeds. 
Day is coming, night is passing, 

And the stars are growing gray ; '^ 
Lo ! I hear the shout of boatmen 

Out upon the sleepy bay. 

* This appearance or color of the stars just before daybreak is more 
noticeable in a southern climate than in ours. 



46 HE COMES NOT. 

Come, O Love ! I'm waiting, weeping, 

Waiting in the chosen grot, 
While the stars their watch are keeping, 

Wondering why thou comest not. 
Now I hear the voice of morning 

Far across the shiggish bay ; 
See the darkness bidding farewell, 

Farewell to the coming day. 

No, he comes not. He will never, 

Ne'er return to me again ; 
I shall watch, and watch forever, 

Down beside the narrow fen. 
Where we parted last forever, 

Down among the tangled weeds. 
By the road that meets the village. 

Out among the soughing reeds. 




HELENA. 47 

HOU sleepest ! lo ! thou sleepest now, 
The beautiful, the blest ; 
Death's finger on thy marble brow, 
His chill upon thy breast. 

Crumbled the shroud upon thy form, 

And veil upon thy face ; 
And now the dark and dampened earth 

Is thy lone dwelling-place. 

The heat of summer now may fall. 

The storm in fury beat ; 
But they can never reach thy home, 

Thy silent, cold retreat. 

The shades of night shall gather round, 

And years shall come and go ; 
But thou, beneath the grassy mound, 

]^o change of years shall know. 



48 HELENA. 

When ages shall have passed away, 

And other races tread 
Above the confines of decay, 

Above the monld'ring dead, 

Thou still shalt sleep, the seal of Death 
Upon thy forehead pressed ; 

Thine heart, no more instinct with life, 
Shall know eternal rest. 




THE SEA OF DEATH. 4:9 



O^^ HEEE is a sea, the sea of death — 
^,ll6j A boundless sea and deep ; 
And o'er its surface, smooth and still, 
No vital shadows creep. 

No eager wind its peace disturbs ; 

'Tis quiet as the grave : 
Its placid bosom never feels 

The motion of a wave. 

No orb of day, no starry lamps, 

Emit their splendor there ; 
It rests in darkness, blacker far 

Than blackness of despair. 

The solemn years do onward glide ; 

The days as quickly go, — 
All, filled with good, oppressed with sin, 

Eeplete with joy and woe. 
4 



50 THE SEA OF DEATH. 

They bear us, too, with noiseless step, 

To that lone ocean drear. 
Upon vv'hose bosom, dark as night, 

No sun, no stars, appear. 

Many there be, erst wearied ones, 
1^0 more oppressed with care. 

Have reached in hope that boundless sea, 
In answer to their prayer. 

Their prayer is mine — I too would reach. 

In hope all pure and blest. 
That wide expanse, where silence deep, 

And deeper darkness, rest. 

Prepare thou, then, my soul, prepare 

For that lone ocean drear. 
Upon whose bosom, dark as night, 

]^o sun, no stars, appear. 



" THERE THE WEAR Y BE AT REST." 51 



Job III. 17. 



FEW more days, my weary heart, 
And thou shalt know thy rest ; 
A few more days, and earthly ills 
Shall thee no more molest. 

A few more sighs and bitter tears, 

A few more throbs of grief, 
And thou shalt reach thy journey's end, 

Where night shall bring relief. 

Then bear thy pain while life shall last, 

l^or ever be dismayed — 
The night shall bring the rest for which 

In sorrow thou hast prayed. 



52 A SUPERSTITION, 



% S«prslttt0iT» 




EEEEE is a voice that ever falls upon 
mine ear : 

Each day it calls with mournful tone, come ! 
When in the gilded halls of mirth with careless 

men, 
I curl the lip at Superstition's fear, e'en then 
I hear that low sad voice — and I am dumb. 

And in the twilight dim, when, free from daily 
toil. 
And free from care, I give myself to rest, 
That voice, still low and sad, doth come to me 

ao^ain. 
As one awaken'd from a dream, I start; aud then 
No peace, no joy, abides within my breast. 



A SUPERSTITION. 53 

Sometimes, at night, and by my side, a form I 
see, — 
Filmy and grey, intangible as air ; 
Sometimes, a shadow on my wall tliat will not 

And then, again, that voice I hear, still sad and 
low, 
Enforcing me to seek relief in prayer. 

And as I pray, the form dissolves, tlie shadow 
fades. 
And fainter grows that voice within mine ear : 
But when the name of Cheist I speak, I find a 

peace 
Before unknown ; my dark and dismal bodings 
cease ; 
And with Amen I bid farewell to fear. 



64 



THE BEST FRIEND. 



Wilt %t^i Jfrbnir. 

HEOB on, sad heart, throb on 
'Twill soon be o'er ; 
Soon Death, sad lieart, shall bid 
Thee throb no more. 




The rustle of his robe, 

My heart, I hear : 
He's our best friend. O heart ; 

He'll soon appear. 

I see his shadow fall — 
He's come ; he's come — 

Oh, fear him not, though he 
Be cold and dumb. 



Yes ; our best fi-iend is he, 
O ! joyless heart — 

A friend no adverse fate 
From us can part. 



THE BEST FRIEND. 

I feel his loving touch, 

Of magic power, 
As soft as summer air 



At twilight hour. 



Idle! — I die! — Idle! — 

We die, sad heart ! 
Our friend has come — with him 

Let us depart ! 



55 




66 THE FLOWER OF SLEEP, 



t Jfbter of SltJ^p- 



WEET sleep, loved flower, pale flower of 
night, 

Thy leaves so pure unfold to nie, 
And breathe thine opiate frao^rance o'er me now, 
That I may hide myself in thee ! 

The tears I weep shall water thee ; 

And thou shalt grow the while more bright ; 
Until glad dreams do sparkle on thy stem — 

The pendent fruit of blessed night ! 




DREAMS. 57 

O sleep, and manufacture dreams 

From out the web of day ! 
To glorify the hours of night, 
Is more than childhood's play. 

'Tis more than sound philosophy — 

To say the very least — 
To spread from fragments of the day 

An evening's gorgeous feast ; 

To build an Indian palace high 

From mud-huts of the day, 
To glitter through the starry night 

And melt at morn away. 

Then give me for the woes of earth 

The solace of a dream ; 
Give me, if not life's nobler joys, 

At least the ones that seem. 



58 DREAMS. 

O, give me, when the darkness falls, 

The pure and holy light, 
The silver music of a dream 

Which sanctifies the night. 

'Tis well to build our castles high, 
E'en though they tumble fast : 

They leave more room for other ones. 
Which soon are with the past.- 

I would not miss my evening dreams 

Before the old log-fire. 
For all the maids in Cashamere, 

For all the wealth of Tyre. 

The only hours I really live 
Are those I spend in sleep ; 

Then strangest fancies, weird and wild, 
To double being leap. 



DREAMS, 



59 



I love to sleep, but more to dream 

The silent hours away, 
Until the sombre pall of night 

Is streaked with light of day. 





60 TO MARIE. 



Co Sam. 

THE soft and dreamy lustre 
Dwelling in thy gentle eye, 
Like a tender starlight trembling 
In the midnight's mystic sky ; 
Though thy face be fair, — as faultless, 

As if carved by Grecian art ; 
Though men bow before thy beauty, 
I will love thee for thy heart. 

There are thoughts of living brightness 

Hiding in thy spirit cells. 
As young humming-birds of summer 

Hide among the lily bells. 
I will pray no storm may drive them 

Rudely from their fairy nest ; 
Drive them through the chill and darkness. 

Worn of wing with bleeding breast. 



TO MARIE, 61 

It were more than death to leave thee 

Idol of my youthful heart ; 
Oft I ask the sacred angels, 

May we never, never part ! 
Yet the years must bring us changes, 

But where'er thy steps may go, 
May, O may thy fate be brighter, 

Love than I can hope to know. 




62 THE COLLOQUY. 



Wilt CcIIcquii. 



IIHEE ladies sat by the cheerful fire — 
The daughters three of a noble sire : 
And all were happy and gay save one ; 
And she was sad and fair — 

Pale as a lily, with mild blue eyes, 
And wealth of golden hair. 

They talked of silk, and they talked of lace ; 
They talked of beauty of form and face ; 
And said, " To be plain is no disgrace 
To those who come from an ancient race." 
And they spoke of love in a trifling way, 
And they laughed to think of the word ohey^ 
Which the bride repeats on her wedding-day. 
Thus laughing, and talking in thoughtless 
tone, 

The eldest said : 

" My heart is dead, 

Yet I will wed 



THE COLLOQUY. 63 

For what I shall own, for the riches alone, 

Which shall come to me : 
My lord shall deal in ships and gold, 
And priceless gems my lord shall hold." 
Then, gleeful, the youngest, uprising said, 
" List now, and I'll tell thee whom 1 shall wed : 
A sailor bold from over the sea. 
Whose only love is the love of me ; 
And we'll live and be happy together, 
In the brightest and darkest of weather 

Ay, happy we ever shall be ! " 
But she, the lady, pale and fair. 
With mild blue eyes and golden hair — 
She, bowing low, and weeping, said : 
"My heart is ever with the dead — 
Ah, w^oe is me ! 
I ne'er shall see 
My own, my loved, my plighted one ! 
And can it be 
Again to me 
He'll never come, no, never come ? 



64: THE COLLOQUY. 

Ah, woe is me ! 
In vain the storms around him sweep ; 
In vain the rain-clouds o'er him weep ; 
In vain the stars through all the night. 
Shed o'er his grave their pallid light : 

He will not wake. 
O love, thy name to me is grief ! 
O God ! wilt thou not send relief ! 

Must this heart break \ " 




DEFIANCE. 65 

O tliee, grim Death, I come, I come : 
I sliudder not, nor am I dumb 
With fear. Thee have I met before. 




And vanquished 'mid the ocean's roar, 
And when the crested wave around 
In wrath did me o'er-leap. As sound 
Of peahng thunder, thou didst laugh, 
And I was not afraid. 

And dost thou think to fright me now ? 
To pale my cheek, to blanch my brow % 
A soul unmoved, resolved, I bring. 
To conquer thee, thou tyrant king. 
Tlien strike with all tliy strength ; strike well, 
And let eacli blow upon me tell. 
Thou canst not better nerve my arm 
With thee to fight, and thee disarm — 
To vanquish thee again. 
5 




66 DESPAIR, 



HE storm shall howl around my path, 
And night shall deeper fall ; 
The rain shall drip like tassels dark 

That dangle from a pall ; 
The wind shall chant a requiem wild 

For all my buried hope, 
Wliile on and on, through deepening night, 

My rayless path I grope. 
No star shall gild my lonel}' way ; 

No hand shall shield my form ; 
The night shall wrap me in her fold. 

And hide me in the storm. 

For others Hope will spread her light 

Across their earthly track. 
And gild with beauty what's to me 

The blackest of the black. 



DESPAIR. 67 

For others stars of love will shine, 

Or night be turned to day ; 
No ray of beauty e'er shall gild 

My dark and lonely way. 
By slow degrees the night shall close 

Around me like a wall, 
Till silence winds me in her shroud. 

The dark funereal pall. 





(jS the despairing mythologist. 



AUK ! blindino; rain ! shiveriiii? liail ! 
Hark ! winds driv'n by merciless fate 
They come, tliey come like a rushing blast 
From chambers deep in the hidden past : 
Yile mimics — the offspring of hate. 

They mimic my torturing fears, 

My agony bred of despair ; 
My doubts, reveal'd in a flood of tears 
Like those which fall at funeral biers 

Of dead men who die without prayer. 

Oh, blinding rain ! shivering hail ! 

^Vhicli come from the cell of despair : 
Now strike, oh ! strike like a demon fell, 
This bosom, rank with the growth of hell, 

And lit with Tartarean glare ! 



THE DESPAIRING MYTIIOLOGIST. G9 

Oil winds, born where never is hope ! 

Blow fierce on mj corrugate cheek, 
And pale mj lips with your blighting breath, 
And bear me quick to the stream of death — 

The Stygian river I seek. 

But hold ! shall I yield to Despair ! 

No, never ! I'll conquer the foe ; 
Put out the torch of the Furies three. 
And hold their lash till my soul is free — 

Yes, free from its burden of woe. 





70 MUTABILE SEMPER, 



ITLED by passion, not by reason, 
Is this feverish heart of mine ; 
All she wraps in fire consuming, 
I within my heart enshi-ine. 

Changing, changing, ever changing ; 

I am like the restless sea. 
Tossing, tossing, never ceasing, 

In my struggle to be free. 



Hopes I cherish nov/ so fondly, 
Friends the dearest of the dear, 

Soon are lost — yes, lost, forgotten, 
In my wild and mad career. 

What to-day I worship wildly 
Passes in the next away ; 

All it had of life and beauty 
Turns to mingle with decay. 



MUTABILE SEMPER. 71 

Lo ! to-day I clasp in fondness 

Some fair idol to my heart ; 
Bnt the morrow brings another, 

Which, alas ! shall soon depart. 

Daily, daily, withont ceasing. 

Do I build my castles high, 
Till they pierce the starry summit. 

Melt, and vanish in the sky. 

Though they fade, yet still I build them, 
Careless what may be their fate ; 

All to-day I prize so dearly, 
On the morrow I shall hate. 





7'J THE FIRST WOMAN, 



Clje Jfirst Marnatt* 

THOU wert more fair than the daugh- 
ters of men, 
For thou wert the daughter of God ! 
More blooming thy cheeks than the bhishing 

rose 
That down on the bank of the river grows, 
And scatters its perfume abroad. 

Thine eyes, all divine, had a light that is lost, 

Belon<xino: to ano;els alone : 
Thy lips had a voice so sweet, like the lute. 
That, listening, enraptured, the heavens were 
mute ; 

But lost unto us is that tone. 

Thy soul was unstained, like the robes of the 
saved. 
Thou beautiful queen of the earth ! 



THE FIRST WOMAN. 73 

No grief marred thy brow, no tear dimmed thine 

eye, 
For sin had not risen yet under the sky — 
In Eden no evil had birth. 

Soon spoiled was thy virtue — a sin thou didst 
sin — 
The first that was wrought on the earth : 
And now a sad people thy dark folly rue, 
Commingling their thoughts of death and of 

you, 

And mourning they ever had birth. 





74 TItE WORLD MY IDOL. 

%\t Worlij Itff lirol. 

HIS world to me is fair. I love it well. 
Each day, as in the days of yore, 
I bind it nearer to my heart, and say, 
" Oh ! leave me not ; I thee adore." 

I mourn the hours which, flying, lessen time — 

The time for my idolatry ; 
And, as they go, I firmer clasp the world, 

And dread the dark futurity. 

At eve, a Yoice Divine doth reach mine ear : 
" This cannot, shall not alw^ays be ; 

Cast, then, tlie image from thy fond embrace. 
And love supremely none but Me." 

That Yoice Celestial comes to me each night ; 

But, still unmoved, T heed it not : 
The while it shakes my soul ; but, ere the morn 

Its hallowed counsel is forgot. 



THE WORLD MY IDOL, Y5 

And thus, through days and years, 1 hurry on, 
Like one who run« to reach a goal — 

The world my idol, and the only God 
To whom I consecrate my sou]. 

O, sin-forgiving One ! hear Thou my prayer — 
My prayer, unworthy though it be : 

" Tear the illusive idol from my breast, 
That I may love and worship Thee," 




76 CLING NOT TO EARTH. 



Cling iot ta €mi\. 



LING not to earth, false, fleeting earth ; 
Hold not her treasures clear ; 
Chase not her phantoms, which, when touched, 

Dissolve and disappear. 
Give not to earth thy warmest love ; 

But fix that love on high. 
Where purer joys illume the years — 
The years that never die. 

Cling not to earth, false, fleeting earth. 

Her fame, or wealth, or song, 
What though her gifts were all thine own, 

Thou canst not keep them long. 
Fix then, oh, fix thy love in heaven. 

Where deathless pleasures reign, 
Surpassing far the bliss of earth. 

As bliss surpasses pain ! 




IN HEAVEN IS REST. 77 



lit frairm b Sltst. 

EYOND the feverish cares and strife. 
And all the joys which make onr life — 
111 heaven — is rest. 
Beyond our fears — a galling chain, 
Beyond onr hopes, so false and vain ; 
Beyond v^^liat now we wonld conceal 
From friends and foes — the wrongs we feel — • 
In heaven — is rest, 

Tlie angel band, the happy throng, 
Around the throne, with harp and song 

Are there at rest. 
There wearied ones, their conflict o'er, 
A rest enjoy unknown before; 
And there shall we^ our sorrows done, 
Our battle fought, our victory won. 

Forever rest, 



7S HYMN. 



fgmtT. 



O, now I know that Christ within, 
Speaks through the shadow of our sin ; 
And though we dwell in utter gloom, 
There shall be light beyond the tomb. 

Immortal One, Thy voice we hear — 
It soothes our grief, it dries each tear. 
And speaks through ages, dim and long. 
To bid the fainting soul be strong. 

Men feel Thy subtile power to save ; 
Thy love they know, and grow more brave : 
Ten hundred years have flown, but Thou, 
Unchanging One, art with us now. 

We cannot fall from Thine embrace — 
Thou boldest all the human race — 
Thou art in every soul, when blest, 
Eternal Christ, made manifest ! 



HYMN. 79 

Thy power, O, holy Christ, we feel, 
And all the hours Thy love reveal : 
We sin, but Thou art over all — 
We cannot from Thy mercy fall. 

O, Son of God ! O, Friend of Man ! 
Through countless years Thy purpose ran — 
Thy purpose tilled with love divine. 
That saved the race and made it Thine. 




80 AMBITION'S PRAYER. 




GOD, that I might be, 
AYhen I have ceased to be ! 
O God, that I might live. 
When I have ceased to live ! 
I would my name, unclouded, like the sun, 
Might travel through the ages yet to come, 
Till time shall be no more. 

The place where I shall die. 

The spot where I shall lie. 

Let these all fade away. 

As fades the light of day ; 
But let my name, unsullied as the snow. 
Resplendent through the distant ages go, 

Till time shall be no more. 



AMBITION'S PRAYER. 81 

At morn, at eve, at noon. 
Upon the bended knee, 
I ask, in faith, of Thee, 
O God ! this priceless boon. 
Deny me not ; declare, " The gift is thine." 
And then, bj years undimmed, my name will 
shine, 
Till time shall be no more. 
6 




82 SWEET SLEEP. 




Stoct Sleep. 

WEET Sleep, tliou comest on the wing of 
Night, 

To light upon my weary heart ; 
And when thou comest, lo ! the bitter strifes, 
And all the cares of day depart. 

I prize thee dearly, O thou blessed one — 

The only friend that's left to me ; 
For like a traveller worn with toil I find 

No peace save that I find in thee. 
E'en now at twelve —r late hour, deep noon of 
night — 

The anxious cares and strifes of day, 
So leaden, press upon my heart and brow, 

'Twould seem they could not go away. 



SWEET SLEEP. 83 

Come, angel Sleep ; O ! come, and drive them 
hence 

With visions of my boyhood's time ; 
Come, light upon my worn and weary heart, 

And let sweet peace, in dreams, be mine. 




84 TO H. E. 




C0 f, (&. 

O one, who, in the strength of woman- 
hood, 

Forsook the soulless under-life of time. 
To link her being with the life divine ; 
And being noble is less understood : 

To one, who felt the pulse of freedom beat, 
Who knew the love-life of departed years — 
Sweet forms of life girt round with bitter 
tears — 
Struck dead, and slain where under-currents 
meet: 

Who spurned the dull convention of the age, 
Nor pinned her faith upon some idle dream. 
But knowing all things are not as they seem, 

Played well her part upon life's crowded stage : 



TO H. E. 85 



To one, girt round with thought, mj spirit's 
friend, 
"With more of faith than I, jet less of sin, 
And all the strength whereby the angels win. 

These ragged lines of shining truth I send. 





86 HAPPY DREAMS, 

laps ^xmm. 

HEK wearied with the cares of life, 
I lay me down to rest, 
Bright dreams, sweet dreams of love and hope, 
With rapture fill my breast. 

I dream of her whose presence lit 

My pathway years ago ; 
And while I dream, the springs of joy 

O'er all my spirit flow. 

No cloud of sorrow shades my soul — 

I neither weep nor pray — 
The wings of Sleep, those angel wings, 

Have borne my grief away. 

I thank Thee, God, for night and rest. 
In sleep, for sunshine gleams ; 

Whatever else I am denied, 

O, leave me happy dreams ! 




TO KATE. 87 



WILDLY wail the winter winds, 
O'er fields of frozen snow ; 
But wilder wail the winds of fate, 

That o'er my spirit blow. 
The storm to all the earth is given. 

And dark the clouds on high ; 
But lo, there beams one tender star 
In love's eternal sky. 

That star — that tender star of love — 

Doth shine for me alone; 
I see its light — the storm is gone, 

The winds no longer moan. 
The star — my Love, that star thou art- 

It lights my lonely way ; 
It bids me trust its hallowed beam : 

Sweet star, I will obey. 



88 FALSE LAURENE. 




HEY call thee proud and false, Laiirene 

They say mutation lies 
Behind those dark and witching orbs — 

Those fascinating eyes. 
They say thou smilest to deceive, 
And cunningly a web to weave 
Around the charmed one, — then leave 
Him to despair. 

They say that thou art dead, Laurene, 

To every thing but pride ; 
That thou wilt fool with words untrue, 

Wlio dare in thee confide. 
They say beneath the drifted snow. 
Regardless of the winds that blow, 
And days and nights that come and go, 
Sleeps one that loved — 



FALSE LAUREISFE. 89 

That loved, and was by tliee deceived. 

Laurene, can this be so ? 
They say thy lips did lure him on, — 

Then coldly answered, ^o. 
Away ! I will not hear thy song. 
Unnnmbercd years, re^'olvinir lon<>-. 
Will not atone for that deep Vv^rong, 
Laurene, Laurene. 




90 THE TRIUMPH OF PRIDE. 



t Sriumplj 0f ^ritr^. 




E seem not all we are — we are not all 
we seem, 
For wayward Pride, with colors bright, paints 

life's short dream : 
And where the days are dark, and where the 

skies are black. 
Upon the fading hours she leaves her golden 
track. 

On yonth her subtile fingers trace, with skill 

complete, 
An hour when ardent love with regal fame shall 

meet ; 
And age she bids upon a future day rely, — 
Regardless of the silent moments as they fly. 



THE TRIUMPH OF PRIDE. 91 

And To, to mortal man she gives immortal name ! 

Upon the venal altar of his frozen heart 

She strews her jewels rare, and lights her baleful 

flame. 
With more than human skill she hides all trace 

of shame : 
Beneath her glass our vice and virtue are the 

same. 

She scorns all human life — she spurns the fear 
of death ; 

With gems and jewels rare she mocks the failing 

breath. 
She triumphs over Tnne, and sits upon tlie 

throne 
Of human mind — with power supreme she 

reigns alone. 



92 THE SCEPTICS PREDICTION. 




t Saptic's ^rtiridioit. 



UK day of life ! our niglit of death ! 

The last, how near ! 'Tis but a breath 

Before we reach the tomb. 
I know that to the mighty throng 
Who pass with liurried step along, 
The dark-robed Monster oft appears, 
Unmindful of the burning tears. 
Regardless of the prayers and fears 

Awakened by his gloom. 
But let him spread his blackened pall, 
And let his darkening shadows fall 

Like storm-clouds over me. 
My soul Avith dread he cannot shake ; 
My heart with grief he cannot break ; 
]^o deep regret my heart shall swell 
When, faintly, I, my \^^i fareioell 
Shall speak to those I've loved so well : 

Then happy I shall l)e — 



THE SCEPTICS PREDICTION. 93 

Yes, liappy ! breathing life away 
So gently, like a summer day 

Receding in the west. 
And when I'm prisoned close in death, 
Breathe not an eulogistic breath ; 
E"o monumental pillar raise. 
To give my name to other days ; 

But fold my hands, my eyelids close, 
And bear me from the mighty throng 
Who pass with hurried step alono- — 
In silence bear me to the o-rave. 

There I shall dwell in deep repose, 
Unmoved by praise, by flattering breath — 
A sleeper in the arms of Death, 
Forever. 




94 MV COFFIN. 




lllJ CoffilT. 

ET it be smooth, and dark, and long ; 
Mounted with silver, tight, and strong ; 
AYith oval top, and graven plate — • 
Mj time of birth, and mortal date ; 
Well lined with satin, soft, and white. 
And trimmed witli gold from left to right. 
Make it, I charge yon, strong and tight. 
That it may last throughout the night ; 
That when the ages all have flown, 
It still may hold me bone to bone. 

No matter what may hap my kin, 
When I am safely locked within. 



TO A HYPOCRITE, 96 




THOU accursed son of godless wrath ! 
O, thou vile monster, in whose slimy 
path 
Base envy crawls, and blushless stalks revenue ! 
Pale is thy visage as tlie sheeted dead. 
But black as hell thy heart, to virtue dead. 
Thou canst, dissembler, every guise assume ; 
I know thee well — and now I speak thy doom : 
O'er thy putrescent form no flower shall bloom, 
Nor shall a friend lament above thy tomb ; 
But dark Despair, that ruthless fiend, shall wave 
Her ebon wand, and gloat, above thy grave. 

O, thou canst weep ! yes, but thy tears do flow 
Cold as the streams that from tlie mountain 

snow 
Descend, submerging all the vale below : 



96 TO A HYPOCRITE, 

And thon, with honeyed speech, canst smile, but 

not deceive ; 
For none, e'en fools, thy words or smiles believe. 
O, thou incarnate Lie ! I know thee well, 
And shun thee as I would the path to hell. 

Why seek a Christian's sphere, and mimic grace ? 
Begone, thou Judas ! haste thee to thy place ! 
And bring no more on sacred things disgrace. 
We see the serpent in thine evil eye ; 
And yet we hear thee tell us how to die ! 
Some give their children to thy watchful care 
And think thee good, because thou mockest 
prayer. 

Move on, my righteous pen, nor fear to say 
Of shameless deeds performed in open day. 
Tell how the poor for bread must toil in pain, 
While he, with greedy hand, secures the gain. 
Tell how, by knavish plan, he strives to rule 
The weak dependant and the witless tool. 



TO A HYPOCRITE. 97 

Tell of his lengthy prayers, and pious psalms, 
His broken promise, and his stinted alms. 
Enough — should'st thou his ev'ry vice portray. 
Thy work would cease not till my latest day. 




98 AD UINISTRVM. 




^tr Piitbtem* 

Translated from Horace, Liber I., Ode 38. 

HE Persiiin garlands please me not, 
Nor chaplets tied witli linden-rind ; 
Then ask no more where dwells the rose, 
In wreaths around the head to bind. 

Add naught to simple myrtle leaves, 
Nor roses in the hair entwine ; 

The myrtle crown becomes thee well. 
And suits me quaffing 'neath the vine. 



* Horace had probably invited some of his friends to supper, and his slave 
was making an extraordinary preparation for their entertainment. — Sana- 
don. 

The ancients used to crown their heads with mjTtle at their teasts, not 
only because it was sacred to Venus, but because they thought it dispelled 
the vapors of their wine. — Lamb. 




ALEXIS AND AZEZA. 99' 



ALEXIS. 

OST tliou remember, O Azeza, all the 
flowers I to tliee in autumn gave % They 
caused more pain to me than they did pleasure 
bring to thee. 

AZEZA. 

Why caused you pain ? Had I foreseen what 
now I know, I would not have received them 
from your hand. 

ALEXIS. 

Then they would have caused me greater pain. 
Within my lingers, like the wax within the flame, 
they would have melted. Azeza, thou didst kiss 
the flowers full many times, and thou didst press 
them fondl}^ to thy breast. But thou didst never 



100 ALEXIS AND AZEZA. 

kiss the giver. O Azeza, this it was that caused 
me pain. One night, npon my bed, of thee I 
dreamed. I dreamed that thou an island wert 
whereon no man had ever trod — an island 
whereon the palm-tree flourished. Sweet smell- 
ing herbs and spice trees rare sent up their odor- 
ous breatli to where Sandalphon waits to gather 
up the prayers of saints ; and I did dream that I 
the great and mighty ocean was, with waves for 
arms, and sj)ray for hair, and sparkling salt and 
dark sea-shells for eyes. With waves I clasped 
thee, and did hold thee fast until the morning 
came. I covered thee witli spray, while thou for 
joy didst breathe so low I scarcely knew that 
thou didst breathe at all. 

AZEZA. 

Speak on ! Your voice is music to my trem- 
bling soul. I cannot choose but hear. Say if 
your love be still alive ? 



ALEXIS AND AZEZA. 101 

ALEXIS. 
It lives, and brighter burns each hour of life. 
I've brought again some flowers to thee, my love, 
a tuberose and leaves of rose-geraniums. 

AZEZA. 

A tuberose ? Dangerous pleasures '^ — do I 
tread on sliding sand? But oh, 'twere joy to 
lose one's footing; and to slide into an ocean 
such as thou didst dream of, were no sin. 

ALEXIS. 

And I have green geranium leaves for thee, 
my love, that in their language mute \ do speak 
unto thy soul, and say that I have chosen Azeza. 
Kiss these flowers for me, and when the volume 
of the day is closed between the covers of the 
night, and thou dost lay thee down to rest, then 
place these flowers upon thy sinless breast, that 

* Tuberose signifies dangerqus plegpSUfes. 
t The geranir.m leaf says ■•choseQ," 



102 ALEXIS AND AZEZA. 

they the pulse of tliy young heart may feel, and, 
fillecl with nameless bliss, forget to wither and to 
die. Dream then of me, the one who gave them 
thee, O fairest of the fair ! 

AZEZA. 

I dream of yoii not only in the night, but you 
are all the day my fond delight. The hills and 
valleys, painted with the clover blossoms red and 
white, the racing brook, the sunburnt rock, and 
shady nook, derive their all from you, for me. 

ALEXIS. 

Then sit no more in gloom, Azeza. ]^or longer 
me repulse. What though in youth, before thy 
years were well advanced, thou didst dream thy- 
self in love with one who was unworth}^ thee ? 
What though thou didst, in girlish passion, fling 
before his feet thine all — the price of thy be- 
trayal ? Speak but one short word, and I will 
bi'eak the chain that binds thy perfect nature to 



ALEXIS AND AZEZA. 103 

its couch of ice, and chain thee to myself, not as 
a servant to a lord, nor even as a saviour to the 
saved, but I will bind thee with the cords of love 
— will bind thee fast w^ith threads of fire. 

AZEZA. 

But I am bound by all the chains that law has 
forged — am bound so fast that nothing but the 
power of God can make me free. 

ALEXIS. 

But I, Azeza, have the power of God, which 
power is love. 

AZEZA. 

I yield. Now strike the galling chain from 
off my waiting soul, and make me wholly free. 
Let friends, let home, let wealtli depart — I find 
them all, and more, in you. Now be the ocean 
that you dreamed you were, and I will be the lit- 
tle island in your arms. 



104 A FRAGMENT. 




HE days they come, the clays they go, 
and the years mo\e by, and the seasons 
change. A7e change with them, and the 
stream of life runs smooth and cleai", as onr 
dreams may be ; we change with them, and 
the stream of life runs wild and dark as the 
angry sea, and \\q say of it all. His vain, Vis- 
vain j w^e relax our hold on the things of 
time, and the sands of life from our fingers 
flow ; all the delicate sands and white, like 
snow, fall in the river of death below. 

Each day of my life new faces I see, but what in 
a year are these faces to me ? Lily-white 
fingers they beckon to me, l)ut where in a 
year will the beckoners be ? 



A FRAGMENT. 105 

I stand where the play and the music abonnd ; I 
hear through the scenes the soft notes sound, 
and down in an orchestra seat I see two vio- 
let eyes all intent on me ; they smile, I 
smile, and tlie play goes on ; but where have 
they gone when the play is done ? 

Yet I know where change can never be found, 
where the same sweet strains shall ever re- 
sound, is a land where all shall gather again, 
the nations and races and tribes of men. 

There flowers never fade — forever they bloom 
in that strange suimy land beyond the dark 
tomb. There o'er the green fields roam wild 
the glad deer, unchased by the hunter, un- 
touched by a fear ; soft, silent Night, with 
her veil of bright stars, woos the spirit of 
man to a gentle repose, and the angel of 
peace, till break of the morn, holds guard 
where they slumber the dark hours away. 




106 My HEART IS LOCKED. 

ITlT iKtrt is f otiwir. 

Y heart — no lire upon its lieartli-stone 
burns — 

'Tis covered o'er with dust ; 
I^or ever on its liinges turns the door, 

Wliose lock is lilled with rust. 
Oh, once love's golden hcj, v>'ith jewels set, 

Unlocked that hidden door : 
Oh, once upon its hinges wide it turned ; 

'Twill open wide no more. 
No more? no more? — 'Sad words — no more. 
I weep, I murmur o'er and o'er ; 

In anguish, too, I say, 
" Alas ! alas ! the da}^ 

Deatli stole the key away ! ^' 
The feet of busy years move by ; 
Friends come and go, friends live and die : 
But what, oh ! what is that to me ? 
My heart is locked : death holds the key. 



MV HEART IS LOCKED. 107 

The changeful seasons come and go — 
The cold white winter filled with snow, 

And then the merry spring ; 
And so the snmmer swiftly comes, 

And all the vales do ring 

With songs of birds that sing, 
Of every name, and every shade, 

Beneath the sun : 
And then the crimson antnmn comes ; 

And one by one 
The birds depart, and winter fills 
The vales with snow, and all the hills 

It wraps in white. 
Bnt what, oh ! wdiat is that to me ? 
My heart is locked : death holds the key. 



THE END. 



